Crimson
by GaySlytherinPrince
Summary: Have you seen Harry when he isn't at Hogwarts?
1. The road

**"When I close my eyes I see the man I always dreamt I could become; when I open my eyes, I see blood covering each inch of my butchered skin. This is the life of a child the world forgot to love."**

Harry's skin was clutching bone, the sight obscured by scarlet blood. Each laceration in his skin was complemented by red-raw bruises, purple shining through the thinner layers. Each fresh-cut caused Harry to feel a dreadful pain, the smell of metallic crimson overcoming number four. Vernon laughed, slicing into Harry's skin again, only stopping when blade met bone.

When Vernon had had enough of that, he pushed Harry over onto his stomach - Harry already crying - and pulled down his pants and trousers. Harry closed his eyes and thought to the letter he had received. He'd be going to Hogwarts soon, just as Hagrid had promised. Why did he have to come back here while he waited? Vernon pulled him from his thoughts by doing the unimaginable and Harry let out an ear-piercing scream, the pain and degrading act making him feel as though he was about to die. Vernon didn't stop, punching Harry before shoving Harry's own underwear into Harry's mouth to keep him quiet.

Tears made their way down Harry's face. There was no escape as he was raped. He was scared and alone here. He was a well-used pin cushion. He was no more than a slave here, beaten, raped and abused whenever his uncle saw it fit. Dark red spewed out of one of his older, re-opened cuts, the area beginning to become visibly infected; there was yellow puss beginning to squirt out of it, mixing in with the thick, warm, red liquid that escaped from between his bones. Harry was choking, vomit making its way up his throat and tumbling onto the ground. Nothing but the acid from his stomach came up, burning Harry's throat as Vernon continued to abuse his rag-doll body, ripping him apart at the seams. Harry's bones were showing beneath his skin and between it. He looked like a living corpse. Vernon seemed to be having the time of his life, spoiling Harry's diminished youth.

His hair was full of many body fluids, coming from Harry and Vernon alike. Vile, piss-soaked mats complemented by a maroon hue, tangling his hair into tangles of disgust. His skin was starting to go a faded periwinkle-blue from the loss of blood, the remainder of his skin feeling like burnt plastic. Harry wanted nothing more than to die. He would only be free then of the inescapable pain and torment of a life of abuse.

"No!" Harry pleaded despite his better judgment through his temporary gag. Vernon sneered. Snot from exessive crying covered Harry's face, making its way into Harry's hair and making it stick to Harry's forehead. Vernon slammed Harry's face into the carpet. It squelched loudly, the urine getting into his nose and making it hard to breathe. Harry sobbed harder. Even though this happened often it never got any easier. Harry quickened his breaths, the smell of his own piss seeping into his lungs. He scrunched his face up, trying to ignore all the pain that was cascading over him.

His body looked like butchered roadkill, his bones protruding at odd angles as blood caked the floor. Vernon pulled him from the road and molested his deathly frame, attempting to cause more pain to the already dead creature. If only Harry was dead so that He wouldn't have to feel in these horrific moments. There was a crunch as Vernon's fist met Harry's already weak bones. Harry scream was muffled by the floor and his underwear. He was crying more now, sobs escaping in raspy tones, the pain more than he himself could stand. He felt like he had been here forever.

The cupboard was dark and left no room for escape, the carpet beneath Harry was a sponge filled with thick, warm scarlet. The house was pitch black, the only people awake now sharing this moment together, one feeling ever so alive and the other as if he was dead. Harry stifled his sobs as he felt the tip of a blade meet his lower stomach as Vernon stopped raping him, turning him over now. Harry would be relieved at the end of such a sinful act but wasn't. He was scared of what was to come.

Vernon let the blade sink in, slicing it up and leaving a huge, dark gash. The skin split horribly, thick liquid glopping out in a horrendous array of agony. Deep within the cut, you could make out Harry's intestines; they looked like fat worms, thin veins crawling all over their long bodies. What little fat Harry had shown in yellow specks, looking like bits of mustard that filled little holes in Harry's skin.

"I won't let you go to that wizard school. I want you here. You are mine, Potter!" Vernon let you suddenly, pounding his fists onto Harry's skin. Harry was a child raised by the fist, raised by the fear of rape and harm. His body felt weak, beginning to collapse in on itself. His body could only take so much. Harry was but a skeleton, feeding only off of the air and his own tears. Harry heard his uncle leave the room, a laugh making its way to Harry's ears as the cold-blooded monster left Harry's prison.

Harry let go, falling into a slumber so heavy Harry didn't know if he'd wake up.


	2. Help the water

**"My bones are starting to disintegrate. When the last one does so will I."**

Vernon's hands melted into Harry's skin, tracing each scar and blemish. Harry waited in dark anticipation, waiting for the inevitable pain. Vernon was naked above him, his fat covering any part the darkness could not reach. He looked like scap meat, put in a bucket in an experiment gone wrong and making a monster of fat and flesh. Harry resided to the fact that it was going to happen again. He used his strength to roll over, trying to get the ordeal finished with. His face was in the same sick that he had vomited just a few nights before, the smell of piss burning his throat.

No words were spoken between them, and when Vernon was finished raping him Harry began to shake uncontrollably, his face scrunched up as he sobbed. His hair was messier than it had ever been. He had been in this cupboard for ages, the only break going to that shack in the middle of nowhere and meeting Hagrid. His hair was bathing in snot and tears. His skin was starting to stitch itself back together, bones still showing but his intestines were the most prominent atrocity. They looked greyer than before, looking more like oversized maggots than fat worms.

Uncle Vernon, seemingly satisfied with his work, opened the cupboard door. Harry looked back, the sight of vain freedom making him feel even more isolated. He was stuck here and didn't know if he'd ever escape.

"U-uncle. I-I. I'm sorry, I'm just thirsty -" He stopped as his uncle's foot collided with his face, a painful snap eluding as his nose was swiftly broken out of place. Harry regretted ever asking, ever opening his thick mouth. He knew he was about to get a drink but not one that he would like. His Uncle quickly left and got his own glass of whisky from the living room and quickly drank it himself before aiming his undersized penis into the glass and pissing. Harry looked away, not wanting to think about what he was about to have to drink. Vernon handed him the glass and sneered, satisfied that Harry was horrified. Harry drank it, grimacing with each mouthful. It was rancid.

"Look's like you weren't satisfied with our little game, huh? Stop with the crocodile tears!" Harry yelled, slapping Harry harshly in the face. Harry continued to cry, wrenching as he choked on his tears. Vernon picked up his knife and pried Harry's mouth open. He put the blade to the corner of Harry's mouth and sliced all the way up to Harry's ear. Harry screamed and kicked out, unable to deal with the pain anymore. The slice was so deep that it flapped open, almost like his mouth had been continued. "Don't ask me for a drink again, Potter. That is unless you want to play again."

Vernon left with one final kick, this time to Harry's jaw. Harry couldn't stop sobbing, his mind racing so fast. He was filled with pain, emotional and physical. His mind was like a gutter. Filling up with more and more shit and rubbish, unable to let go of the horrid stench of agony that overflowed his entire form. Harry lived in a dark cavern.

That was when Harry felt something moving within him. He looked down at his intestines and sore that a group of maggots had made themselves a home and were feasting on Harry's flesh and blood. Harry screamed so loudly that it burnt Harry's throat, the thought of him being eaten alive grotesque. Blood and puss oozed out of him, the horrendous healing conditions too much for his body to bear. Part of his flesh had already been eaten, the maggots feasting on his rotting body. Harry could hear Vernon laughing from another room, the sound of Harry's screams seeming to make him happy.

Then the maggots were gone; Harry knew that it must have been his magic that willed them away, or perhaps his insane mind that put them there in the first place. His skin felt stretched and old, withering with each passing slash. Harry quietened, his body falling into a state of shock. He was dying, he knew that. Yet even though he always knew he was dying he never died. It was never-ending torture for the boy, a fat, evil man constantly raping, maiming and toying with him.

There was a knock on the door the next morning. Harry could hear that Vernon didn't want the man coming in but the man was very resistant. He pushed Vernon aside, it seemed and Vernon ran up the stairs, each fat step making the house shake. Harry couldn't move. He was naked except a pair of crusty underwear that stuck to him. Harry heard a zap, then a whizzing then saw a light then heard and saw a pop like that of a bubble.

"Alohomora." Said the man, concern evident in his voice. The door squeaked open, light casting over Harry's usually shadowed body. The man was greated by a horrific sight; the body was human, of course. That could be determined by the face, although somewhat disfigured. His body was wretched; it was like parts stuck together. Bones with minimal skin and more flesh oozing out thick, yellow pus. Dark red blood spewed out of his broken frame, parts of his body had been eaten by something but the man couldn't see what. Then there was the smell. The smell was like a corpse that had been marinating in the hot sun for weeks. It made the mans eyes water, the twinkle that seemed to belong there gone. His name was Albus Dumbledore as Harry would regrettably later learn. "Incredible. He is not dead. How much more can this boy stand?"

Dumbledore set privacy wards around the whole of the cupboard, not wanting the muggles to know what he was doing. Harry looked up at the man, wondering what he was going to do to him. He was magic so was he a friend of Hagrids? Harry didn't have much time to think before Harry heard the man say 'crucio' and his body was overtaken by pain. Harry screamed, his body enveloped in torturous agony. Harry was withering helplessly, his body slushing on the revolting carpet beneath him. As he breathed you could just make out his lungs beneath his thin, overstretched skin. His ribs were so visible that you could see little bumps of his prominent bones.

Without care, the man raised his wand and said another spell, cuts appearing all over his body, revealing his ribs in the open air. Harry started choking, thick, crimson liquid coming up in long strands from his mouth to the floor. The blood never stopped coming. He thought that he would enjoy Hogwarts, but he wouldn't if this man was there.

Why did this have to happen to Harry?


End file.
